Forever
by katzsoa
Summary: One hundred themes, one hundred stories to tell, one hundred moments in eternity, as life continues onward, forever.
1. Table of Contents

**A.N.: **Someone linked me to someone, who linked me to someone, who linked me to this, at _http:/ dimension-27. wikidot. com/ theme-challenge-compilation_ (without the spaces). I'm going to try to do it all, at some point... and all about Rune Factory 3! The only ones I've changed from the original are 009, from "Months" to "Seasons", and 092, from "Christmas" to "Holiday", and the last five were Artist's Choices, so I put my own in. Here goes...

001. Beginnings.  
002. Middles.  
003. Ends.  
004. Insides.  
005. Outsides.  
006. Hours.  
007. Days.  
008. Weeks.  
009. Months.  
010. Years.  
011. Red.  
012. Orange.  
013. Yellow.  
014. Green.  
015. Blue.  
016. Purple.  
017. Brown.  
018. Black.  
019. White.  
020. Colorless.  
021. Friends.  
022. Enemies.  
023. Lovers.  
024. Family.  
025. Strangers.  
026. Teammates.  
027. Parents.  
028. Children.  
029. Birth.  
030. Death.  
031. Sunrise.  
032. Sunset.  
033. Too Much.  
034. Not Enough.  
035. Sixth Sense.  
036. Smell.  
037. Sound.  
038. Touch.  
039. Taste.  
040. Sight.  
041. Shapes.  
042. Triangle.  
043. Square.  
044. Circle.  
045. Moon.  
046. Star.  
047. Heart.  
048. Diamond.  
049. Club.  
050. Spade.

051. Water.  
052. Fire.  
053. Earth.  
054. Air.  
055. Spirit.  
056. Breakfast.  
057. Lunch.  
058. Dinner.  
059. Food.  
060. Drink.  
061. Winter.  
062. Spring.  
063. Summer.  
064. Fall.  
065. Passing.  
066. Rain.  
067. Snow.  
068. Lightening.  
069. Thunder.  
070. Storm.  
071. Broken.  
072. Fixed.  
073. Light.  
074. Dark.  
075. Shade.  
076. Who?  
077. What?  
078. Where?  
079. When?  
080. Why?  
081. How?  
082. If.  
083. And.  
084. He.  
085. She.  
086. Choices.  
087. Life.  
088. School.  
089. Work.  
090. Home.  
091. Birthday.  
092. Holiday.  
093. Thanksgiving.  
094. Independence.  
095. New Year.  
096. Battle.  
097. Monster.  
098. Ghost.  
099. Guests.  
100. Forever.


	2. Beginnings

**001. Beginnings**

"What's this, Dad?" the little boy asked, looking at the purple rune in his hands. "Is it a spell?"

"Yes, it is," the golden wooly replied. "This spell will activate your monster blood and let you transform."

"My monster blood?" the little boy repeated. "So, if I use this, I can be like you, Dad?"

"Yes," said the wooly. "Give it a try."

"Okay, Dad!"

The little boy closed his fingers around the rune and focused.

"Think of woolies," the wooly prompted. "Think of wool as golden as your hair, of running through the grass, of bleating…"

There was a flash, and then there were two nearly identical golden woolies standing next to each other.

"Wow! It worked!" the smaller wooly exclaimed, turning around, trying to get a look at his new form. "I look just like you, Dad! This is great!"

His father laughed. "I'm glad you like it, Micah."

Micah grinned and turned back towards the house.

"Mom!" he called. "Mom! Take a look at this!"

The front door opened, and then a woman stepped out. She smiled down at Micah.

"I knew that you would be able to do it!" she said. "I just knew it…"

There was another flash, and then Micah again was a human.

"This is so great…" he said, grinning at the rune in his palm. "So, I can turn into a wooly whenever I want to?"

"Anytime," his father replied. "Whenever your heart desires."

Micah nodded. Then he frowned, a thought occurring to him.

"Which am I, really?" he asked. "Am I a human turning into a monster, or a monster turning into a human?"

His parents looked at each other, and then back at their son.

"You're both," his father said. "You're half human and half monster. Neither is the primary."

Micah nodded again. "Can I go show Sam?"

"Of course, dear," said his mother. "Go on."

The little boy ran off, every few steps switching from human to wooly, wooly to human, laughing merrily all the while.

The woman's hand stroked the wooly's fur.

"To think that such a child could exist…" she murmured.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" said the wooly. "But just think… If you and I could make it, perhaps others can, too. If monsters and humans came together… Wonderful things are in our future, I just know it. This is only the beginning."

"I hope so," the woman said. "I do hope so…"


	3. Middles

**002. Middles**

We're stuck in the middle, the three of us.

I'm half wooly, she's half phoenix, and she's…half fish, I guess.

We're neither one nor the other, not completely, at least.

We sometimes are one, and sometimes the other,

But we're always both.

We're always in the middle.

Sometimes it's difficult, being in the middle.

Sometimes we don't know what we are, where we are.

We don't know what's best for both sides.

Do we follow one, or go with the other?

Speak or bleat? Walk or fly? Dance or swim?

Sometimes it's scary, being in the middle.

We're strange. We're not normal.

We're stuck.

Sometimes people don't like us in the middle.

Those people are on one side or the other, always,

And they're scared of what lies on the opposite side.

We're not afraid of either side, not really.

We're afraid to hurt either side.

We're afraid to be hurt by either side.

We want to be accepted by both sides.

People say that they understand what it's like in the middle.

But they don't, not really,

Because they're not in the middle.

There's just us three in the middle,

Working to survive in a land of sides.


	4. Ends

**003: Ends**

"What's wrong, Raven?"

Micah placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, looking deep into her sky-blue eyes. While Raven's emotions were unreadable to most people who met her, he knew her well enough to know when something was troubling her, even though they had known each other for just under a year when they were married.

"…It's nothing," Raven replied. "Nothing that you need to worry about, anyway…"

"Anything that worries you, worries me," Micah said, guiding her over to the bench under the cherry tree in the plaza, where they sat together. Others were milling about in the plaza, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and the New Year to begin, but they all respected the young couple's privacy.

"Tell me," Micah insisted. "Please."

Raven sighed.

"It's the end of the year," she said. "It's the end… I don't like endings. Because they're sad."

Micah placed an arm around her.

"They don't have to be," he said. "Sure, some endings are sad, but just think: After this year ends, another year begins. And when that one ends, yet another begins, and another, and another, and another. It never really ends, Raven. Not really. Endings are just beginnings, looked at in a different direction."

"…I guess you're right," Raven said. "Look at me, getting all upset when I have every reason to be happy. I have a home, friends…and I have you."

Micah raised a playful eyebrow. "I'm not a friend?"

"You're more than just a friend," Raven replied, leaning over and kissing him.

_10…9…8…_

"You'll be there throughout all of the ends, won't you, Micah?" Raven whispered.

_7…6…5…_

"Of course I will, Raven," her husband replied. "I'll always be there for you."

_4…3…2…1…_

"That's an end," said Raven.

"The first of many, Raven," said Micah, squeezing her hand. "The first of many."


	5. Insides

**004: Insides**

Hey-ho! Whaddaya want?

Of _course _I know what "inside" means, silly! Inside is what's, well, inside! It's not on the outside. You can't see the inside unless you go inside.

Some male guests at the bathhouse want to see the inside the girls' bath, but Shino won't let them. That's one inside that they shouldn't see, I guess.

Oh! Oh! Also, inside is where I put squid! Inside my belly! Where they can't kill helpless tuna!

Inside of me? I just told you, silly, the squid are in there! Duh!

Who I _am_ inside? I'm Pia, of course! Pia the bathhouse girl! Pia, Sakuya's friend! Pia the mermaid!

Well, I don't look like a mermaid right _now, _of course. It's just when I get wet. Then I get fins, and I have to hop-hop-hop around. It can be a pain. Fins are meant for water, not for land.

So why did I leave the sea? I'm not sure… I was lonely, I guess, and Sakuya was there, so I left.

I like the land plenty! But I like the sea, too. Outside I look like I've lived here forever, right? But inside it's weird. I've got two in here, the land and the sea. It can get a bit confusing.

Sometimes I think, I should listen to the mermaid inside of me, and go back to the sea. But I always come back here, for some reason. Kinda weird, huh?

Thanks! I like that I'm still here, too!


	6. Outsides

**005. Outsides**

The masks are round, wooden, and painted with bright colors, but they rarely get to see the light of day. Usually, the innkeeper keeps them hidden in a small chest, which is hidden beneath a trapdoor, which is hidden beneath her sleeping mat. Her daughter has never seen the masks; they are from a time before the little girl was born, and also before the wars. They are from a past that the innkeeper left behind to become a warrior, a traveler, and then a mother.

They were part of a ritual, once upon a time, but the ritual had long since been lost, although the masks remained as a part of celebrations in the land in the east. Dancers would don the masks, and they would leap and twirl around the room. The innkeeper can still recall watching the dancers when she was very young and joining them when she was old enough, putting on a mask of her own. The purple one, with red around the eyes and green around the mouth, the mask in her left hand, was the one that she wore. The yellow one, with an orange sun on its forehead and a blue moon on its chin, belonged to her sister. They had not always gotten along on normal days, but when the two of them donned the masks, creating a new person on the outside for the person on the inside to crouch behind, they were a natural pair. It was easier to put a face on the outside to hide behind, but after she left the land in the east for the war she had put that method behind her.

Then again, she thinks as she places the masks back in the chest and closes the lid, maybe she never stopped putting on an outside face.

After all, during the war, she had put on the face of a cold warrior, to gain the respect of her fellow soldiers and to dull the blows that she dealt on her mind whenever she dealt them on her opponents, those poor men who probably had families, sons and daughters and wives, at home.

And then after the war, when she'd had to stop because she had a daughter of her own, she'd put on the face of the world-weary traveler, so that the little girl, who asked so many questions, would not ask her questions about the past that she had left behind. She was able to safely tell anyone she met that she was from the east and had been travelling for a long time, and that was that, because there was nothing on the outside that suggested otherwise.

Even now, she has the outside of a tough yet polite innkeeper, who equally disciplined and tolerated the antics of her daughters.

Is this her real outside? Does she even know what her real outside is? Was it the outside that she showed to the man who gave her a daughter, the man who was there and then gone? Was it the outside that she showed the other adults in the town? Was it the outside that rarely had its say, but once in a while perked up its head and peered through the cracks when she saw a cute monster?

Could she ever know for certain the answer to that question? Was she any of them, or all of them? Or was the person on the inside completely different from any of her outsides?

She may never know.

Then again, she thinks as she stashes away the chest in its space below the floor and repositions her bed, maybe she doesn't have to know. The outsides help her shift from circumstance to circumstance, and each outside reflects something on the inside, even if it's very small.

Perhaps, she thinks as she stands and leaves her bedroom, everyone has many outsides, which they take on and off like masks depending on the circumstance. Perhaps it is a natural thing for a person to do.

Maybe.

**XXX**

**A.N.: **I don't know why it took me so long to update… You'd think that "Outsides" would be a relatively easy prompt, given how fitting "Insides" was to the whole Rune Factory 3 story, but it still took a while for me to think of something, and even longer to type it up. And I've been facing a general RF3 muse failure lately. "Beyond the Races" hasn't seen love in quite some time… Ah, well, all I can do is what I can do, right?


	7. Hours

**006. Hours**

We judge the hours by the sun, here in Sharance. It rises at six a.m., peaks at noon, and sets at seven p.m. How do we tell the inner hours, you ask? The sunlight and moonlight settle on different branches of the Sharance tree throughout the day and night. That's how we know timing for shopping and festivals. When it started growing, we had to reassess our time-telling, but it was worth it when we made peace with the univir and the Sharance Flowers bloomed.

Depending on the hour of the day, there are many wonderful things to see. For example, in the afternoon, the angle of the sun is just right to reflect off of the waterfall in Oddward Valley, creating a beautiful rainbow. And when the sun sets, the sky over Sol Terrano Desert becomes a spectacular display of stars. Both are well worth the trek to see.

Time can be a relative thing, however. It can pass very quickly for the farmer engrossed in his work in his fields, or rather sporadically for the young man waiting for his date, or interminably slowly for the little girl bored by the hot summer afternoon. But, no matter how fast or slow they seem to pass, the hours never stop; no one has found a magic that will cause it to cease its constant, forward movement. And so the hours become days, the days become weeks, and the weeks, years, for all eternity.


	8. Days

**007. Days**

_**Privera**_

It takes a while for the morning sunlight to filter down through the treetops to reach the grass below.

A wooly hidden in a thicket, curled up next to its mother, lifts its head and blinks at the new day. Above him, a chipsqueek balances easily on a high branch and breakfasts on a nut.

As the day progresses, the forest comes alive. Pomme pommes gather in Lightway, idly hopping about. Giant beetles creep among the ruins, lurking in the shadows. Elephants gather at the lake's edge, playfully spraying each other with the cool water.

The woolies find an apple tree and begin to eat the fresh, red fruit. The snapping of a twig sends mother and child scampering for the cover of the undergrowth, disappearing without a trace of white wool left behind to tell the approaching orcs that they had been there. The orcs, young males, were busy stalking around and waving their clubs in the air, challenging each other as they were wont to do.

In the afternoon, buffamoo rest by the lake while leafballs try to snag the rest of the daylight before it goes away. A large ant crawls over a giant mushroom, which puffs green gas in irritation, but the insect is unaffected by the noxious smoke.

A girl from the town cautiously walks down the Crescent Path, her every move watched by the flower blossoms, which are as wary of her as she is of them on her last-minute quest for dropped items. She finds some arrowheads left behind by the orc archers and quickly retreats towards home.

As night sets in, the onion ghosts begin to stir, coming out to dance in the moonlight reflecting on the water.

_**Sol Terrano**_

At sunrise, the desert sky becomes a brilliant display of red, purple, and gold. The flower lions open their petals wide to take in the bright colors, humming softly to themselves.

The daily battle on the Bone Bridge between the ducks and the pineys begins shortly, each monster trying to get as many pineapples from the other as possible while avoiding the gelatinous slimes sliding about underfoot. In truth, the squabble is all good fun, and by late morning all are sharing in the sweet, prickly fruit.

Goblins and trolls face off in the Rocky Valley in a much less humorous manner, arguing over their ever-shifting territorial lines. A flock of weegulls fly by high overhead, taking care to avoid the conflict as they let the thermals carry them to and from their nests in Cactus Cove.

As the sun reaches its zenith, the fighting monsters disperse and the young dwarf who lives in the settlement to the north passes through the Rocky Valley on his way to the Sand Sea. A tricky mushroom blows green smoke at him, but he kicks it away with a glare and continues on his way.

Ignises glide around the base of the giant cactus in Cactus Cove, spraying each other with flames and generally ignoring the rest of the world. A shadow panther comes near to take a slice out of the cactus, deftly avoiding being burned as it retreats with the soft, green flesh as its dinner.

The sun has baked the sands to a stifling temperature, so the scorpions retreat to the shade of the giant lizard fossil, crawling about the bones. Nearby, monster boxes click their lids, bored from the lack of curious adventurers that day.

Finally, the sun sinks below the cliffs, which cover the desert in shadow. Tomato ghosts begin to make their rounds, gleefully giggling to each other as they fearlessly slither past sleeping titans.

The univir woman stands alone on the Star Dunes, watching the stars come out to end the day with as brilliant a display as it began.

_**Oddward**_

Mornings in the windy valley are cool, moist, and foggy. A cluckadoodle crows into the mist, and a blackbird responds, its whistling call an effective mimicry of the wind. The two birds continue to sing back and forth for a while, cheerfully heralding the new day.

A Minotaurus heaves itself out of its cave and stalks over to the river, dunking its head in the water and pulling it out again, dripping. It snorts at the salmon swimming in circles below and shakes its mane, spraying droplets everywhere. A hell spider jerks away from the droplets, hissing softly as it receives an unexpected shower.

On the Bamboo Cliffs, a gigantus rolls over and tries to catch a few more hours of sleep, a task made difficult by the little green fairies dancing around its head, cheerfully showering each other with fairy dust.

After the sun has risen high enough in the sky to clear away the fog, the hornets rise, their wings now dry. The insects swarm towards the flower lilies, trying to collect the sweet nectar that is contained between their petals, which the plantlike monsters can snap shut at a moment's notice, gulping down a careless hornet.

A gang of goblins race down Tempest River, scattering a school of sky fish and splashing a hobgoblin awake from its afternoon nap, which hisses at them before moving up the Windy Hill. It takes out its irritation at being disturbed on a small cluster of moppe moppes by shoving them over and rolling them back down the hill. A Hercules beetle chuckles to itself as it watches the little round-bodied monsters tumble past it and into the rear end of a buffalo, which startles and bolts.

As the sun begins to set, the pepper ghosts descend from the Bamboo Cliffs, drifting amongst the planchoa, which are dozing in the gentle evening breeze.

A furpuff wraps its long, fluffy tail around its body and falls asleep, safe and warm in a hollow tree.

_**Vale**_

On cloudy days, day is not much different than night. When there's sun, the snow sparkles like a million diamonds.

This day is a day of blizzards, but the blowing snow does not much bother the penguins and snowies, who bumble about the Frozen Shore in search of breakfast. One lucky snowy finds an orange, and the next several minutes are spent playing keep-away with the other hungry monsters.

Further along the landscape, orcs and ogres stalk each other, squinting through the snow at each other across the frigid river and swinging their weapons boastfully while a school of dorados slide across the cracked ice between them.

A little wizard grabs hold of a mammoth's tail and pulls itself up onto the huge monster's back, cackling gleefully as it receives a thrilling ride along the shore, past a patch of flower crystals which watches the interesting sight without comment.

Under the icy branches of the great White Tree deep in Vale, tundra glide about in what for them is a comfortable level of freezing while hooded ghosts lurk in the shadows of the roots, eyeing the necros gathered across the cavern.

The storm dies down temporarily in the evening, just long enough for a silver wolf to cross the ice towards the Icy Rosebush, where a girl with long red hair stands, staring off into the distance. The wolf watches her for several moments before slinking away; humans on the whole do not make good prey, and this one smells of fire.

Inside the Crystal Cave, safely shielded from the howling winds which have returned full-force for the day's end, turnip ghosts cackle and bump each other over burbling, oozing dark slimes.


	9. Weeks

**008. Weeks**

It didn't matter how much time the middle-aged woman spent sitting in her chair staring at the calendar; the dates kept moving onward, counting the weeks since her son had left home. It had been many weeks, far too many weeks, since she had seen him, him with hair as golden as his father's fur and eyes the same shade of sea-green as her own, her wonderful, half-monster child, barely into manhood.

"Marcia?"

She looked away from the calendar, and her eyes met those of the golden wooly who had just entered the room.

"I was just checking what date it was," she said, forcing a smile.

Her husband knew her too well to be fooled.

"You've got to stop hurting yourself like this, Marcia," he said, walking over to her and setting a paw on her knee. "There are other things to be done, and making yourself sadder won't bring him back."

"I know, Favvus, but it's been weeks and weeks!" Marcia sighed. "Seasons, years, even! Anything might have happened to him. He could be dead, and we wouldn't know!"

"My love, please, calm yourself," Favvus urged. "Our son is not dead. He is a strong lamb, and one day he will return to us. And when he returns, he will not want to see two old worrywarts; he will want to see proud parents."

"I know…" Marcia said again. She shook her head. "But he didn't even say good-bye…"

It was true. Neither mother nor father had known that anything was wrong until the guard patrol had returned without their son. It had been young Samaran, their son's friend, who had told them that he had left to chase down a group of monsters that had escaped from the portal he had been guarding. He had not returned.

Having nothing to say in response, Favvus simply laid his head in his wife's lap, and she ran her fingers through his soft wool. It gave her little comfort. There was nothing like losing a son.

There was a faint commotion outside, like raised voices too far away to be understood. Favvus raised his head and glanced towards the door.

"I wonder…" he muttered.

A few moments later, they heard quickly approaching footsteps, and their neighbor, Kara, stumbled into the room, out of breath.

"Fav… Favvus," she panted, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "Marcia, it's…"

"It is what, Kara?" Favvus asked. "What is it? What has happened?"

The elf shook her head. "Go," she said. "Just go! Now!"

The human and wooly glanced at each other, and then they rushed for the door, hurrying out into the street. Everyone was coming outside to look; there was a growing crowd of townsfolk, humans and monsters, several houses down, drawing nearer. They were surrounding someone, talking to someone, laughing and cheering about something.

Then a blackbird near the front of the throng saw the couple standing bewilderedly in front of their house, and with a sharp call to the others, the crowd split down the middle, parting to let them see. Everyone had gathered around one person, a young man dirty from travel, dual blades in a belt emblazoned with a purple gemstone at his waist. He had blond hair, golden as sunlight, and teal eyes, green as the sea.

For several moments, all was silent, and woman, wooly, and traveler just stared at each other.

Then the young man smiled.

"Mom," he said. "Dad."

Marcia burst into tears.

"Micah!" she cried, embracing him. "Oh, Micah!"

Favvus quickly joined the hug, and the crowd cheered again.

There was nothing like losing a son. There was also nothing like getting him back.


	10. Seasons

**009. Seasons**

Karina stifled a yawn, staring at the long list of chores that her mother had set out for her that day. It was all cataloguing and organizing, necessary for running a general store but incredibly boring nonetheless. This was a day for napping, not for working.

_But if I nap now, I'll get yelled at again later,_ the teenager reminded herself with a sigh. She hated work.

Hazel wanted her to make sure that all of the supplies were categorized by season, adding the note "_ESPECIALLY THE SEEDS!_" to the list in large letters.

_Does it really matter? _Karina thought, glancing around at the shelves. _Farmers already know what seeds can grow when… If I had my way, everything could just stay where it was set, and the customers could look for what they wanted themselves. Then I wouldn't have to do anything._

The "Spring Seeds" shelf was to her right. Karina looked over the colored bags. Pink Turnips, 80G. Cabbages, 100G. Onions, 110G. Strawberries, 260 G (_Yum, strawberries…_). Pink Melons, 620G.

_Looks all right to me…_

Karina moved on to the next shelf, labeled "Summer Seeds," with some trepidation. There were many more of the little seed bags on this shelf, since hurricanes often destroyed crops.

Cucumbers, 80G. Tomatoes, 140G. Corn, 130G. Pumpkin, 220G. Eggplant, 160G.

_Huh. Not so many after all._

She turned around and accidently kicked over a bottle of Formula A, sighing as the green liquid spilled across the floor. _Perfect. Another thing I have to do. Where does Mom keep the rags, anyway?_

As the teenager half-heartedly searched for the rags, her eyes landed on the shelf for "Autumn Seeds."

Potatoes, 90 G. Carrots, 100G. Yams, 120G. Spinach, 60G (_Who likes these vegetables, anyway? Besides Marian, I mean. She has weird tastes in everything._). Green Peppers, 150G.

Having found a rag, Karina began to mop up the Formula A. The cloth quickly absorbed the thin liquid.

_There's just winter left, right? "Winter Seeds"…_

Turnips, 130G (_Why are regular turnips so much more expensive than pink turnips?_). Leeks, 120G. Daikons, 160G. White Cabbages, 200G (_White Cabbages don't taste any better than normal cabbages. What makes them so special?_). Hot-Hot Fruit, 470G.

_There. That's done._

Karina yawned and tossed the rag aside. _Isn't it time for a break yet? I'm sick of working._

_Mom won't notice if I close my eyes for just a bit…_

…

…

…

"_Karina!_"


	11. Years

**010. Years**

In a year, the warrior came to Sharance. He cared for the farm and drove away beasts and forged bonds between the people who lived there. That was the first year.

In a year, the warrior lived in Sharance. He married his lover, who helped him with the farm and bore him a child, who he watched grow with loving eyes. That was the second year.

In a year, the warrior left Sharance. He left the farm and the people he loved, searching for a place he knew he once loved but could barely remember. That was the third year.

In a year, the warrior returned to Sharance. He again left the land of his birth for the farm and the town and the home in the tree and the people who loved him there. That was the fourth year.

In a year, the warrior stayed in Sharance. He saw a world of love and hope there, a world that he could keep safe, a world where he could be happy. That was the fifth year.

It was also the sixth year, the seventh year, the eighth year, the ninth year…


	12. Red

**011. Red**

Karina turned the ruby over in her hands, watching it sparkle in the sunlight. It was such a pretty little gem. She loved gemstones, except for diamonds. They reminded her of working in the store. The _Diamond _General Store, her mother had named it for some reason. Ruining a perfectly reasonable gem, it was; sullying up a pretty, sparkling beauty.

Gemstones were lucky. They never had to work. They just sat in rocks for years and years, never once moving, growing more and more beautiful the longer they sat still, until someone dug them out. Zaid, the dwarf from the desert settlement, had dug this one out. A present, not that it meant anything special, he said.

Well, special or not, it was a very pretty gem, red like a strawberry, or like Raven's hair, or like a sunset. Sunsets meant nighttime, which meant sleeping without being told that she had to wake up. And that was always a plus in Karina's book.


	13. Orange

**012. Orange**

Blaise's knife cut through the carrots, chopping the orange veggies into slim circles. They were fresh from Micah's farm; the younger man had brought them over himself that morning. They were good carrots, too; even after being washed they were still nice and crisp.

The chef slid the carrot pieces off his cutting board and into a bowl, tossed the leafy ends into the sink to dispose of later, and grabbed two more carrots. As he began to chop again, the door of the restaurant slammed open. Blaise didn't even look up; he was used to such disturbances.

"Leave me _alone, _Collette!" he heard his son exclaim as he entered the room.

"Aw, come on, Rusk!" his daughter wheedled. "You can tell me; I'm your sister!"

"I said _no!_" the teenaged boy was running for the stairs.

"I'll force-feed you turnips until you tell me!" Collette was still pursuing him. "So even if you don't tell me, you might finally learn to appreciate good vegetables!"

The siblings disappeared upstairs. Blaise could hear their feet pounding above him. He smiled to himself with mild amusement, knowing where this scene was going. Whatever their dispute was about today, Rusk would seek refuge on the upstairs balcony, and if that failed to deter Collette, he would climb down using the nearby trees, run to the plaza, and hide in the tree at its northern end. The children had done that many times since they had moved to Sharance years before, often trading roles. Blaise saw no harm in it; neither was ever hurt, and there were worse ways for sibling rivalries to play out.

And his children did have quite the rivalry, he thought as he added the rest of the carrot pieces to the bowl. Quiet, thoughtful Rusk and loud, boisterous Collette didn't agree on anything, right down to the foods they ate. With one loving vegetables and the other adoring pastries and each loathing the other's, it was difficult for even an accomplished chef like himself to cook for his own family.

Today, however, he was making something that he thought had a chance of pleasing both of his children.

Blaise picked up the bowl and turned to the oven.

He was making a carrot cake.


	14. Yellow

**013. Yellow**

Sakuya ran into the inn, clutching a bundle of cloth to her chest. There was a wide grin on her face as she hurried into her bedroom. She set the bundle down on her bed and picked up her ledger to take notes.

"Sakuya?" a pink-haired head peeked into the room. "Whatcha doing?"

"Come on in, Pia!" Sakuya waved for her friend to come closer. "I've got something here that's going to make me rich!"

"What is it?" Pia sat down on the bed.

Sakuya put her ledger under her arm and carefully unrolled the bundle, slowly pulling the cheap cloth off of the treasure inside.

"Ta-dah!" she said. Pia gasped.

"Are those golden Wooly furballs?" she asked.

Sakuya nodded. On her bed lay a small pile of wool, yellow as gold.

"Remember how I told you that I saw a golden Wooly in Privera Forest last week?" the Eastern girl explained. "Well, today I asked Micah to help me find it again, and there it was! So I sheared it!

"Just imagine," she continued, paging through her ledger. "Simply saying something's golden makes people want to pay more for it. But this really _is _golden! It could be worth hundreds, thousands… Maybe I could make my first million with this stuff! Woolies grow their wool back quickly, and I bet there are more of them around somewhere… And if it turns out to have magical or medicinal properties, then demand will skyrocket! I'll never be in the red again!"

"It's so soft!" Pia exclaimed, stroking the balls of wool.

"Hey, paws off of the merchandise!" Sakuya snapped.

Pia placed her hands in her lap and pouted.

Sakuya felt that she had been a bit harsh.

"Tell you what," she said. "When the golden wooly's had time to grow its wool back, you can come with me to go shear it again! You hug so tightly; it won't be able to get away."

"Yeah!" said Pia, immediately cheering up again. "I love Woolies!"


	15. Green

**014. Green**

When Micah came out of the Sharance Tree that morning, he was surprised to see Daria standing at the bottom of the staircase, glaring up at the leafy branches above them.

"Good morning," he called as he approached her, but she didn't reply.

Micah looked up at the tree, but other than its height, which he had gotten used to by now, he didn't see anything worth staring at.

"Daria? What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to decide what colors to paint the Sharance Tree," the elf replied.

"Paint the tree?" said Micah. "Why?"

"Why not?" said Daria. "Just look at it! Green leaves!"

"Is there something wrong with green leaves?"

"They're boring, that's what's wrong with them!" Daria insisted. "Any old tree can be green. But a special tree, a _Daria-painted _tree, can be any color! Even rainbow!"

Micah hesitated, trying to think of the proper response. When Daria got her mind set on something, there was no stopping her. But he had a feeling that most people in town would object to the Sharance Tree suddenly becoming multi-colored…

"But the Sharance Tree isn't just boring and green, you know," Micah said.

"It's not?" Daria looked at him, confused.

"Of course, it isn't!" Micah continued. "For one thing, it's a very pretty shade of green, and this shade of green is the special color for summer trees.

"And it isn't always summer, you know. Soon it will be fall, and then the leaves will be red and brown and gold. In winter, the leaves will be gone, but the branches will sparkle with bright white snow. And in the spring, there will be beautiful, pink flowers. If you paint over the leaves now, then we won't see those colors later, and the paints might make the tree sick, too, and then it won't grow right at all."

"Hmph…" Daria's brow furrowed as she considered his arguments.

"Maybe I won't paint it yet," she finally said. "But the world will see the wonder of my art! I'll just have to find a different medium…"

"You do that," said Micah, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.


	16. Blue

**015. Blue**

The little girl gripped the top of the wall with the tips of her fingers and drew herself up onto the tips of her toes. Her eyes barely cleared the top, but it was enough for her to see what lay beyond.

The sea. There it was, that great blue expanse far below and far outwards. She had heard the pink lady speak fondly of the sea when her mother had taken her to the bathhouse the other day. It certainly was big. Bigger than the lake, even. The pink lady had told her that the sea was full of fish. There must be a lot of fish to fill the sea, the little girl thought. Hundreds of fish. Maybe even dozens!

(A dozen was a big number. The man who brought her sweets showed her once that he made them in dozens. A dozen was a lot of sweets, more than how many her mother said would give her a tummy ache.)

There were birds flying over the sea. They flew like her mother did, when she had wings. The little girl wondered where the birds made their nests. Maybe they sat right on top of the sea. Water had never held her weight, but maybe birds were lighter than she was. They were a lot smaller than she was.

The little girl peered at the sea as closely as she could. The pink lady said there were squid in the sea, evil squid who ate fish. Her mother had told the pink lady not to tell scary stories, but the girl had not been scared. After all, she ate fish, too, so a squid should see her as a friend. But she couldn't see any squid; all she saw was the blue surface, smooth and shiny as the aquamarine her father had shown her on her birthday. He hadn't let her keep it, though; he said it wasn't a toy.

The sea was a big aquamarine, that was it. Were there fish inside aquamarines?

"Lala! There you are!"

Her mother came up behind the little girl and picked her up.

"Don't you ever run off like that again!" she scolded. "What in the world were you thinking?"

"The sea is blue, mama," the little girl said. "It's pretty."


	17. Purple

**016. Purple**

Micah had barely set foot inside the De Sainte-Coquille mansion before he was accosted by the resident fashionista.

"Micah!" Evelyn exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the corner of the foyer where she had set up shop. "Just the guy I was looking for!"

"Wh-What's going on?" Micah stammered as he was plopped in front of a mirror.

"You're here to try on this outfit I made for you!" Evelyn said as she hurried over to a nearby rack of clothes.

"Actually, I'm here to see Sofia…" Micah tried to correct her.

"She's not here," another voice muttered. Micah turned to see Karina standing at the other end of the clothes rack, idly browsing through the wildly-colored outfits hanging there.

"Oh." Micah took a step towards the door. "Well, in that case—"

"Not so fast!" Evelyn leapt in front of him, cutting off his escape and shoving a garment over his head.

"Hey!" Micah's vision was completely obscured by dark purple material.

"That's it. Now, put your arm through here, and we tuck in this bit over here, and tie this up…"

When Micah's head was finally free of the garment, he found himself facing the mirror again. He gaped. He was wearing a dress. Granted, it was made of strange leaves instead of cloth, large, purple, frilly leaves from who-knew-what, but it was still a dress.

"So?" Evelyn prompted. "What do you think?"

Micah hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

"Don't you think… it might suit you better?"

Karina laughed softly. Evelyn looked indignant.

"Of course not!" she contended. "Don't you know anything about fashion? That color clashes with my hair. And it looks _so _good on you!"

Micah thought that the purple dress would complement the lighter purple of Evelyn's hair quite nicely, but it was never any use arguing with her.

_At least it's not made of fish, _Micah thought. The last time Evelyn had shoved an outfit onto him, it had taken him hours in the bathhouse to get the smell off.


	18. Brown

**017. Brown**

Micah swung his axe, splitting the tree stump into smaller pieces, which he picked up and carried over to the woodshed. There he placed the short logs on top of the pile already there, adding the even brown shapes to their fellows.

In addition to the usual weeds and twigs, he often had to clear tree stumps from the field beneath the Sharance Tree. But where did the tree stumps come from? Trees never grew in his field. The stumps just appeared.

Micah shrugged. It wasn't worth worrying about. The Sharance Tree was magical, and at least it provided him with a convenient supply of lumber.

**XXX**

**A.N.: **This is something that I've always wondered.


	19. Black

**018. Black**

It's morning in Oddward Valley. The sun is not yet high enough to dispel the low-hanging clouds, so everything is covered in a layer of mist.

A beetle crawls out onto a rock. It clicks its pincers a few times, and then it sits still. Its hard, black exoskeleton quickly grows damp from condensation, and it flutters its wings to shake off the cold droplets.

The beetle sits for another moment, considering its surroundings. Visibility is still low, but it remembers the field in which it found food and shelter from predators the other day. The beetle scuttles down off of the rock and starts its way across the valley towards the field.

When it reaches the earthy patch, it realizes that something is wrong. Half of the field, the nearer half, has been cleared and plowed. But the other half, at the far end of the clearing, is still covered with weeds and twigs. The beetle flutters its wings uncertainly, not liking the lack of cover between it and the other end of the field, but hunger wins out over caution.

Merely a few seconds after it begins its trip across the dirt, it senses the shadow from above. The beetle snaps open its wings and shoots forward, barely evading the snatching claws of the blackbird as it dives into the mess of weeds.

The blackbird caws its frustration as it swoops over the field again, now unable to see its little black prey.


	20. White

**019. White**

While many of the Sharance festivals would seem a bit strange to outsiders, the townspeople held a special pride in their unusual traditions that Micah could never help but admire.

"Woah…" he muttered as he entered the plaza one morning in Spring. "That's… That's one _big _wooly!"

"It's positively **tiny**_**,**_ my boy!" Sherman contradicted (or possibly agreed; it was difficult to tell). The corpulent man tied the end of the wooly's leash to the tree at the northern end of the plaza.

"It's _soooo _cute!" Pia exclaimed, running up behind Micah and jumping up and down excitedly. "I want to hug it!"

"Why don't you?" Sakuya suggested, coming to join her friend. "You could hold it still for the rest of us. That way we'll get more wool off of it."

Micah shook his head and looked around the plaza. It was nearly nine o'clock, and the townspeople were steadily gathering. Shara was taking her little sister up to pet the wooly, while Wells cautiously watched. At the far end of the plaza, Shino was stretching, talking to Hazel as she warmed up for the day's activity—Karina, Micah noted, was nowhere to be seen, likely using the day off for an opportune nap.

From the south entrance to the plaza came Gaius and Raven, their arms laden with unusual weapons. Micah saw a toy hammer, a large spoon, and…

"…is that a lollipop?" he wondered aloud.

"Those are special weapons for wooly shaving," Evelyn said, walking up beside him. "They're a bit unusual, but they're guaranteed safe. No wooly abuse here!"

Micah nodded slowly. "Are you going to participate, Evelyn?"

The fashionista shrugged. "I don't really see the point."

"Wells told me that we get to keep all the wooly furballs we collect," Micah pointed out.

Evelyn gave him a strange look. "What would I use wool for?"

Micah opened his mouth to state the obvious, but then he wisely thought better of it.

"All participants in the Wooly Festival to the center of the plaza!" Wells called. "It's time to begin."

Micah stepped forward to look at the "weapons," considering his options. He finally settled on the acutorimass, a pair of ladles, not unlike his own dual blades.

At the mayor's direction, the participants formed a circle around the wooly, which Sherman had released from its leash, while the rest of the townspeople moved a safe distance away.

"Okay!" Wells said. "Ready…set…go!"

The participants charged at the giant wooly, and soon the air was full of flying white fluff.


End file.
